Croon of the Cuckoo

__________________________________________

Cu-oo, cu-oo croons the cuckoo in

raptures, awaiting imminent showers;

The bees drone away in harmony

as they scour for nectar among flowers

That gently nod and sway;

smiling demurely astride luxuriant bowers.

__________________________________________

__________________________________________

Attired in its enticing best, the season

of rain rides the monsoon squalls,

Like a damsel beautiful, in the fullness

of youth, gracing heavenly halls.

Butterflies softly caress the boughs and

cloak them in passionate embraces.

The brash among the blossoms flaunt

petals topped with multi-colored laces.

Nature sparkles in resplendent freshness;

mortals in abandon celebrate,

And blissfully partake of this ambrosial

spectacle, their thirst never to satiate.

Cu-oo, cu-oo croons the cuckoo in raptures...

__________________________________________

__________________________________________

Oh, why does lightning strike repeatedly so:

spellbinding, thrilling, dazzling?

Might it be that the lord of the skies, in a

surge of intense emotional outpouring,

Scraped his tender lips upon the

ebony cheeks of a cloud nymph, and reflecting

Her strange sensation that is longingly

fulfilling and diffidently satisfying.

Minds resort to furtive flights in this

season of love, as fancyful realms allure;

Countless pairs of wistful eyes coalasce,

attempting identical dreams to conjure.

Cu-oo, cu-oo croons the cuckoo in raptures...

__________________________________________

__________________________________________

With countless little twinkling stars teeming

the vastness of the dark firmament,

The magnificent Moon provides a charming

contrast of elegance and deportment;

Its soothing luminosity vanquishing

despondency with the intent to appease

Desolate hearts that pine at parting, and

to subdue in them autumnal tendencies.

Behold the Full-Moon in lofty splendor,

my sweet love, that it may so follow,

That the veils of ignorance and misgivings

are swept aside in its virtuous glow.

Cu-oo, cu-oo croons the cuckoo in raptures...

__________________________________________

__________________________________________

Could anything be more idyllic, my dearest,

than to lounge by the lakeshore after sunset,

To watch pairs of lotus' recline on each other's

stalk; water ripples, their love to whet?

A circumstance notionally intoxicating

urging every sense to be addictive to tipple;

Yet, there appears to be an aura of divinity

shimmering around every loving couple.

Body, mind, and soul to their last grain

rejoice in losing themselves in this mood;

In the misplaced belief that there is only

now, which for that instant seems a certitude.

Cu-oo, cu-oo croons the cuckoo in raptures...

__________________________________________